The Muse of the Opera
by masqueradewitch
Summary: She does not fear the Phantom, but she believes in Christine's Angel of Music. When she finally encounters her friend's mysterious teacher, will she learn to fear him, or will Erik learn that this new woman has more than a few tricks up her sleeve?
1. 1868: Mademoiselle StClair

A/N: Okay, this is my first attempt at a Phantom of The Opera fic, but I love the story. Okay, in this fic, I am using the movie from 2004 movie starring Gerard Butler. I am also taking some severe liberties with my OC's background, so if I mess up some of the historical points, I'm sorry. I would also like to say that I realize that my character is going to seem like a Mary-Sue, at least appearence wise, but I am also going on the assumption that in Paris in the 1800's, it would be preferable to have a pale European woman as a bride. Calliope is definately not part of that group. So please, even though I'm sure this plotline has likely been done to death, I can't help myself. Forgivr me. Reviews are appreciated, but please, no flames. And as always, I own nothing recognizable. I am only borrowing the characters.

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Madame Giry stood in the office of Mon. LeFevre, the manager of the Opera Populaire with a young woman, her head bowed, blood red hair spilling loose over her face. She wore a plain dark dress, and a black hooded cloak pinned at her throat. She clutched a small chest in her lap, her knuckles almost white she held it so tightly. The manager swept into his office, tucking a small purse into his pocket.

"Good morning, Madame Giry. What can I help you with today?" he asked, his welcome smile lighting the room.

"Monsieur, this is Mademoiselle StClair, the daughter of a great benefactor to the opera house many years ago. Mademoiselle StClair is newly arrived in Paris and is looking for work. I hoped that we could find a place for her here." Madame Giry said, standing regally. The young woman also rose, though her head remained bowed. M. LeFevre looked the girl over with a critical eye.

"Could she not join your ballet rats? She looks to have a dancers figure." he suggested. The young woman's head shot up, her hair sliding back to reveal slightly dark skin and deep amethyst eyes.

"I am not a performer, Monsieur. My trade in my homeland was closer to a seamstress. I can work in the costumes." she said, her voice soft, almost timid. She was at first glance a timid, frightened little mouse, but if one looked a little harder, they would see a hidden fire in her eyes, that spoke of a woman not to be trifled with.

"That is most fortuitous. Our last costume mistress has recently informed me she desires to leave to spend more time with her family. I can get you help at times, but for the most part you will be working alone. Is this acceptable?" M. LeFevre asked. The young woman nodded silently.

"Excellent. I will get her settled in her rooms. We must start work in the morning." Madame Giry said, leading the young woman away through the opera house to the costume mistress' rooms. Once there, the young woman turned and smiled warmly at the ballet mistress.

"Thank you for your help Madame. I am eternally in your debt for your help." she said. Madame Giry shook her head, a slight smile on her face.

"No petite, I am glad to help you. I am sure that you will be happy here. Once you are settled, I will introduce you to my little Meg and Christine Daae. I think you will get along well with them." she said, then took the young girls hand's in hers. "Ami-" she was cut off quickly.

"Please Madame, I do not wish to be called by that name any longer. They need only call me Miss StClair."

"And if someone wishes to call you by your given name?" Madame Giry asked.

"Papa often called me Calliope when I was little. He told me I was a muse reborn on earth. That name will suit me." she replied. Madame Giry nodded, and pressed a motherly kiss to Calliope's forehead.

"Very well Calliope. I will leave you to get settled and later this evening, we will have supper with Meg and Christine." she said, and left the girl to herself. Calliope kneeled and pushed her tiny chest under her bed, then went to the little vanity and stared at her face. Her skin was too pale compared to the women of her homeland, but too dark when compared to these beautiful French women. She sighed and began to braid her hair slowly, humming a song her mother used to sing to her when she couldn't sleep. After a little while, a gentle knock on the door alerted her to a visitor. When she opened the door, she found herself face to face with a young woman of about sixteen, with curly brown hair and big brown doe eyes. She wore the normal attire of the ballet rats.

"Hello Mademoiselle StClair. I'm Christine Daae. Madame Giry asked me to come fetch you for supper." she said, curtseying at Calliope. She smiled warmly at the young dancer.

"It is nice to meet you, Christine. Please, lead the way." she said, following Christine through the halls of the opera house.

"Madame tells me that you are the new costume mistress?" the young girl asked. Calliope nodded.

"Yes. Are you only a dancer, or do you have other skills?"

"I am learning to sing. I have a ways to go, but my teacher tells me my voice will soar to the heavens." Christine said, a slight blush tinting her face. Calliope took the girl's hand in hers.

"If you ever need a place to practice, you are welcome to come visit me in the costume rooms. I would welcome the company, and I would love to hear you sing." she said. Christine blushed deeper, and quickly led the new costume mistress to Madame Giry's private rooms. When they arrived, Meg was already seated with her mother, and smiled brightly at Calliope.

"Hello! I'm Meg Giry. Welcome to the Opera Populaire. How are you finding Paris so far?" she asked brightly. Calliope smiled gently at the young girl as she and Christine sat down.

"It is lovely to finally meet you Meg. Paris is new to me, but I am finding it quite agreeable. I am looking forward to starting my work tomorrow. What is the opera?" the last question was directed at Madame Giry.

"The Barber of Seville. We have about two and a half months before opening night." she replied.

"Let's just hope the opera ghost doesn't muck everything up too terribly." Meg said. Calliope glanced at the blonde girl, frowning slightly.

"Opera Ghost?" she asked.

"Yes, the opera house is haunted by a masked specter. He sends mysterious notes written in red ink to the manager, making demands about changes to the operas, and he also demands a huge salary. If the manager refuses, things start going wrong. M. LeFevre always makes sure to pay the ghost so nothing too terrible happens, but several people have seen the ghost in the rafters during rehearsals." Meg said. Calliope just looked at the young girl, not believing that a ghost haunted the opera house.

"Meg, that is quite enough. Mademoiselle StClair doesn't need to hear this nonsense." Madame Giry said sharply. Meg quickly bowed her head in shame. The rest of the meal was spent in relative silence, and Christine led Calliope back to her rooms.

"Christine, would you like to come in for a moment? I would like to hear you sing a little." Calliope asked. Christine nodded eagerly and stepped in the rooms. Calliope sat down in a chair near the fireplace and looked to Christine expectantly, who began to shyly sing a soft melody. As the song progressed, the young girl became more confident, and it showed in her singing. Calliope listened, entranced, until the young dancer was done.

"I'm still not very good." Christine murmured. Calliope shook her head quickly.

"That's not true, that was beautiful! I shall call you petit rossignol! Who is your teacher?" she asked. Christine glanced at the door, then kneeled before the older woman.

"I will tell you, but you must promise not to say a word to anyone. Not even Madame Giry." she whispered.

"I promise I will not tell a soul." Calliope replied.

"When my father died, he told me he would send me an Angel of Music, and he did. My Angel of Music is my teacher." Christine said, her eyes shining. Calliope smiled at her and brushed her hair back.

"Rossignol, I am very pleased you have an angel to teach you. You are welcome to use my rooms to practice when I am in the costume rooms, and tell your angel that I am pleased he was sent to you." she said.

"You truly believe me? Even though you do not believe in the opera ghost?" Christine asked.

"Of course I believe you. In my homeland, we truly believe in the mystical, and that includes angels. I will not say that the opera ghost does not exist, but I will not fear him. I have spent too much time afraid." Calliope replied, a shadow crossing her eyes for a moment. Christine smiled warmly and embraced the older woman.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle StClair. I can tell we will become great friends." she said.

"In that case, you may call me Calliope." the costume mistress replied.

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A/N: Well, here's the first chapter. No Erik yet, but he will be showing up soon. A quick note, this chapter takes place about two years before the movie starts, and the next chapter jumps right into the first scene.

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	2. Phantoms and Angels

A/N: Okay, new chapter! This takes place two years sfter the last chapter, and jumps right into the movie. Thank you to those who have read my story, I hope you like this chapter.

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"Mademoiselle StClair! Mama is asking for you!" Meg Giry stood in the door of Calliope's workroom. The costume mistress looked up from the costume she was fixing for one of the dancers.

"I'll be just a moment. Where is she?"

"Onstage. M. LeFevre will be introducing the new managers and the new patron today." Meg replied. Calliope chuckled as she set her work aside and followed the blond ballerina to the stage. Madame Giry stood near the dancers, who were going through their steps in costume. Calliope made a note of how the costume's fit the girls, smiling warmly at Christine.

"Hello, petit. I wanted you to be here when we meet the new managers." Madame said. Calliope nodded and moved to adjust one of the dancer's outfits. They were performing Hannibal, and the costume were bringing back memories for the young costume mistress. Of course, the girls had no idea how to properly garb themselves, and had swarmed Calliope when they realized she had been making similar outfits for years. The downside to this particular opera was that the Prima Donna, Carlotta had returned. Carlotta had taken an instant dislike to the young costume mistress, always blaming her for the slightest problem with her costumes. Calliope had been overjoyed when the alleged opera ghost had driven her away six months before, but bow she was back, along with her entourage and her lover, the tenor Piangi. Calliope moved back to stand next to Madame Giry as M. LeFevre swept onstage with three other men. Two were middle aged, and Calliope assumed they were the managers, while the third was a few years her junior, with handsome features, and wavy brown hair. The way he dressed seemed to scream wealth, and Calliope would bet he was a noble of some kind.

"Madams and Monsieur's, as you all know, this is my last week as the manager here at the Opera Populaire. I am pleased to introduce M. Andre and M. Firmin, your new managers, as well as the Vicompt De Changy, your new patron." M. LeFevre said. A light smattering of applause greeted this little speech. Madame Giry approached calmly, Calliope at her side.

"Monsieurs, I am Madame Giry, the ballet mistress. This is Mademoiselle StClair, our costume mistress." she said, the two women curtseying slightly. Just then, Carlotta tramped onstage, shoving Calliope out of the way as she fluttered her eyelashes at the Vicompt. Calliope glared at the Spanish diva, before moving back toward the dancers.

"Are you alright, Roux?" Christine whispered, using her nickname for Calliope. Calliope nodded, glaring at Carlotta's back.

"I am fine, Rossignol. It will take more than that snippy hag to get me." she whispered back, earning a small giggle from the dancer. She glanced back just in time to see Carlotta preparing to sing an aria, and winced visibly. Carlotta was well past her prime, and the high notes of the aria made many people's ears hurt for hours. Carlotta's performance was thankfully cut short when a backdrop fell on her, drawing cries of fear from several of the ballet rats and forced Calliope to clap her hands over her mouth to stop from laughing out loud. Suddenly, two of the dancers screamed, crying out that they had seen the opera ghost. Calliope rolled her eyes at their cries, and inwardly jumped for joy when Carlotta began to shriek.

"Until you stoppa this from happening, this thing does not happen!" she cried, storming off the stage. Calliope grinned inwardly at the witch's retreating form.

"Who will we get to perform in the opera if not Carlotta?" M. Andre asked.

"Christine Daae can sing it, sir. I assure you that she is incredibly talented." Calliope said. The two managers looked at the pair.

"The chorus girl?" M. Firmin asked, incredulous.

"She has been well taught." Calliope replied, pushing the young dancer forward. Slowly, Christine began to sing the same aria Carlotta had been butchering, only her voice rose clear and perfect. Everyone assembled gazed at her in awe as her voice rose through the opera house. When she had finished her demonstration, the new managers turned to look at Calliope.

"Do you have enough time to adjust the costume's before tomorrow?" M. Andre asked. Calliope nodded.

"If I get started right away." she replied, grabbing Christine's hand and pulling her back into the workroom. Once there, she pulled the younger woman into a bone crushing hug.

"Oof! Roux, you're crushing me again." Christine teased. Calliope pulled back grinning madly.

"I am so happy that you will finally be able to show of that voice of yours! Your father would be so proud of you." she said.

"I owe it all to my Angel. If he had not taught me, I would never have this chance." Christine replied. Calliope pushed her into the white gown and onto the stand so she could begin to pin it up.

"I wish I could thank him. With you in the lead, I don't have to deal with that banshee and her horrendous 'improvements' to her costumes." Calliope replied. Christine laughed as Calliope continued to adjust the costume. Over the next few hours, the two women took turns singing to each other. While Christine was always telling her that she had a lovely singing voice, Calliope had made the young soprano swear not to tell a soul. Christine had agreed upon see the fear in her friend's eyes.

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If there was one thing that Erik could not resist, it was a puzzle. He would pore over them for ages until they finally revealed their secrets to him. When Mademoiselle StClair had first arrived two years before, he had taken note of her foreign coloring, and noted that she was rather beautiful, but what surprised him was how easily she and Christine had become friends, despite the costume mistress being eight years older than the soprano. He had dismissed her for the most part, deeming her as terribly shy, and not worth his attention. Her work always seemed to enhance the operas, so she was left alone. He learned from his angel that the young woman did not fear him as the Phantom, and indeed was doubtful as to his existence. Yet at the same time, she knew of him as Christine's Angel of Music, and readily accepted that side of him, even allowing the soprano the use of her private rooms for her lessons, and encouraging her to practice in the costume rooms while she herself was working. Slowly, Erik had determined that their was more to Mademoiselle StClair than met the eye, and today he found another facet to the puzzle. This woman had a voice that could almost rival Christine's. He could not understand why she hid herself away, and let only Christine hear her voice. Quickly, he moved to the hidden passage near the hall she took to her rooms. Along the way, the costume mistress was cornered by the stagehand, Joseph Bouquet.

"Come with me petit, and I will show you Paradise." he leered. She swiftly brought her knee up into his groin, pushing him away from her. Growling, Bouquet went to reach for her again when she pulled a dagger from her skirts and pressed it against his leg.

"Try it, and you will be a soprano before you can blink." she hissed.

"One of these days you won't have that dagger, StClair, and when that day comes, I will be waiting." he snarled. Her amethyst eyes were hard, and her smile was cold as ice.

"If I do not fear the opera ghost, what makes you think I fear a pig like you?" she replied. Bouquet muttered as he stalked off. The costume mistress watched him go , her fingers still tightly gripping her dagger. Erik was impressed with the way she handled herself. As he studied her more carefully, he noted that she was not so dark skinned that she seemed obviously foreign, but at the same time she was far from a pale skinned European woman. He idly wondered if her mother had been the foreign one or if it had been her father. She sighed as Bouquet vanished around the corner and looked up and down the corridors before leaning forward slightly. Erik bit back a gasp as she proceeded to lift her skirts, revealing bare skin up to her upper thigh, where a sheath for the dagger was revealed. He had never spied on the women of the opera house before, but he could not turn away from the sight before him. She calmly slid her dagger into it's sheath and pulled her skirt back over her leg. She wore no petticoats, no corset. Mademoiselle StClair was obviously a pragmatic woman. He watched as she moved into her rooms and did not leave until her door was shut firmly behind her. As he returned to his lair, the image of that smooth skin beneath the dagger's hilt was burned into his memory.

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Calliope sighed to herself as she sat down near her fireplace, where a tea tray sat next to her book. Christine's debut had been spectacular, and the Vicompt himself had come to call on the soprano. Calliope had ushered her out the door, despite the girl's protests.

"But, Roux, my teacher will be terribly angry. I really shouldn't." Christine had said.

"Christine, I can think of no reason why your Angel would deny you happiness. And if he does get upset, send him to talk to me." Calliope had replied, hands on her hips. With a laugh at her friend's attitude, she had allowed herself to be ushered out the door, where Calliope had extracted a promise from the Vicompt that the soprano would be returned at a reasonable hour. Now, the costume mistress picked up her book, absently pouring a cup of tea as she found the page she had left off at. She smiled as she read a few passages of The Odyssey, and sipped at her tea. She frowned at the faint taste of something she did not recognize. She continued to read, dimly aware of the festivities in the barracks celebrating a successful show. As she sipped her tea, she became aware of the sense that she was not alone. Slowly, she drew her dagger from it's sheath, holding it lightly in one hand. Setting down her book casually, she went to stand and swung her blade up swiftly. A strong hand grasped her wrist and spun her around, holding the blade straight out from her body while another arm pinned her free hand against her body, pulling her back against a strong, broad chest.

"I have never given you reason to fear me, Mademoiselle, for you have never given me reason to be upset with you. But you will have to learn not to meddle in the affairs of others. I have plans for Christine, and I can't have her gallivanting with that fool Vicompt." a silken voice whispered in her ear. She tried to struggle, but found her arms too heavy to move. But her voice was still available to her.

"If you dare to harm Christine in any way, I swear you will regret it." she hissed. That velvet voice chuckled.

"Even now, you are defiant. You are quite amusing Mademoiselle." he said, catching her as her knees gave out beneath her. Realization dawned on her then.

"You drugged my tea? Why?" she asked as her dagger fell to the floor.

"You assume I would not be angry with my angel. And that is true. But I am upset with you." he whispered in her ear, scooping her up and carrying her to her bed, laying her down. Her vision dimmed, but she caught a glimpse of blazing green eyes as her attacker stood and swept away before darkness consumed her.

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A/N: Yay, another chapter! Okay, reviews are better than gold, so please press the green button!


	3. Curiosity

A/N: Well, here is the next chapter. There is more interaction between Calliope and Erik in this chapter, and something of a friendship begins to emerge. As always, I own nothing of The Pahntom of the Opera.

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"Roux! Roux wake up please!" Calliope slowly opened her eyes to see Christine's terrified face.

"Christine? What time is it?" Calliope asked, sitting up slowly, her head spinning. She looked around her rooms and spotted her dagger sitting neatly on the table near her bed, along with a long stemmed red rose.

"Oh, Roux, my Angel was so upset! He said that you had done a terrible thing, sending me off with Raoul. He said you needed to learn your lesson. I was so frightened. I thought he had hurt you!" she sobbed. Calliope looked at Christine for a moment before making the connection. Christine's Angel and the opera ghost were the same man, the one who had drugged her tea. She thought back to the night before. She remembered his voice, and those green eyes, like perfect emeralds in his face, but try as she might, she could not recall any detail about his face. Calliope listened with one ear as Christine babbled about returning from dinner with Raoul and following her Angel's voice through a tunnel and to a strange dream. She told of his anger, not at Christine, but at Calliope herself for interfering with his plans. The way Christine hesitated at one point told Calliope that there was more to the story, but the costume mistress didn't press her.

"Christine, I am fine. Your teacher did not harm me. However, for the next little while, I want you to stay here with me, for your safety." Calliope said, standing up and moving to her dressing screen.

"Alright. Do you think he'll try to hurt you again? I don't think I could bear it if something happened to you." the soprano said. Calliope stepped out, wearing a hunter green gown.

"He didn't hurt me. He said I amused him. Besides, harming me would be detrimental to the opera house. Who else can make the costumes?" she asked, smiling gently at her friend. There was a knock on the door and Calliope went to answer it.

"Mademoiselle StClair, Mama and the managers need to speak to you." Meg said. Calliope nodded and went to her bedside table, retrieving her dagger and slipping it into the hidden sheath on her leg before heading for the main foyer. Madame Giry stood off to the side watching as the managers, Raoul, and Carlotta all argued at the top of their lungs.

"Petit, are you alright? Christine was going on about you being hurt." Madame whispered.

"I'm fine. I'll explain later. What's going on?" Calliope asked. Just then, M. Andre looked over and spotted her.

"Good, you are here! We need you to prepare the new costumes for Il Muto. Carlotta will be playing the countess, and has brought her own fabric. We have less than four weeks to prepare. I will not be intimidated!" he snapped, storming off. Calliope blinked for a moment, then headed off to her workroom to start working. Madame Giry followed her, and sat down in a chair.

"Tell me what happened last night." Madame said, her tone allowing no argument. Calliope sighed.

"Well, I have finally encountered the opera ghost. For a while now, Christine has been receiving music lessons from someone she called her Angel of Music. I encouraged her lessons, even praised her teacher. Last night, I learned that Christine's Angel and the ghost are the same man. He didn't like the fact that I sent Christine to supper with the Vicompt. He drugged my tea." Calliope explained, hefting the hideous pink fabric onto her table. Madame stood and took her hands, making her look the older woman in the eyes.

"Petit, is that all he did?" she asked softly. Calliope nodded quickly.

"Yes. He said I amused him. That I was defiant. He left me in my bed and vanished." she replied. Madame Giry sighed, setting down heavily in her chair.

"I am sorry you have been dragged into this petit. I never imagined that this would happen. The opera ghost has always helped and protected me and Meg, and in return, I have run his errands, delivered his notes. When he left you alone, I thought he had deemed you part of my family. Now I am unsure." she said. Calliope faced the ballet mistress, smiling reassuringly.

"Do not worry, Madame. I think he only meant to scare me. Although I have to say, I think this fabric scares me more." she joked.

"You are a strong woman, petit. The man who marries you will have his hands full." Madame said. Calliope glanced back at her, smiling sadly.

"You know I will never marry." she whispered, getting to work on the gown. Madame watched her for a few moments. In the two years since she had arrived, Calliope had blossomed into a strong woman. She never allowed the men of the opera house get near her, and she protected Christine with a vengeance. At the same time, the young girl refused to speak of her past. Madame Giry knew that something terrible had happened before she had fled her homeland for Paris, but the girl had never spoken of it. Madame Giry remembered the bright smiling girl Calliope had been, dancing around as her mother sang in her native tongue. Sighing, Madame Giry made a decision.

"Petit, why did you stop dancing? I remember you loved to dance as a child." she asked. Calliope's hands froze over the fabric.

"I stopped dancing because it brought me only pain." she replied, her tone indicating she would not speak any more on the subject.

"I think you and the ghost have much in common." Madame said.

"What do you mean, Madame?" Calliope asked, curiously.

"I brought the ghost here when he was just a boy. I found him at a gypsy caravan. He was treated horribly, beaten and put on display for the public, like a beast. When he escaped, I brought him here to the opera house, and he flourished." Madame said, and proceeded to tell the costume mistress the whole story about the first encounter between the future ballet mistress and the future opera ghost, about his escape from the cage he had known for so long, and his ability to find any hidden passage in the opera house, as well as his extraordinary talents in music and art. Calliope listened, her heart breaking for the man who had been treated so horribly simply because of something he had no control over.

* * *

Erik cursed, standing swiftly from his organ. All day, he had been thinking about the look on Christine's face as he told her of his ire at Mademoiselle StClair. He feared he might have lost his angel, all because he had drugged her friend. Of course, it didn't help that Christine had seen his face before he was ready for her to see him. He had returned Christine to the opera house so she could go to her friend and assure herself that the costume mistress was unharmed. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. In the two years since Mademoiselle StClair had arrived at the Opera Populaire, he had never heard anyone call her by her given name. Madame Giry called her petit, Christine called her Roux for her hair, the managers called her Mademoiselle, and Carlotta called her girl. Erik smirked as he thought of how Carlotta had shoved the young woman aside the day the new managers had arrived. StClair indeed. The woman must have the patience of a saint to deal with the shrieking diva. Donning his cloak, Erik headed through the maze of tunnels that led up to the opera house. He slipped through a hidden door in the costume mistress' rooms, and noticed a sleeping figure in the bed. The fir had been banked for the night, and cast a soft reddish glow about the room. Slowly, Erik crept forward on silent feet toward the bed. His hand reached for the blanket when the press of warm steel against his throat made him freeze.

"Somehow, I had a feeling you would be here eventually." the familiar voice of Mademoiselle StClair reached his ears. Erik turned his head to look fully at her, and for the first time in many years, he was stunned. The costume mistress normally kept her hair tightly pinned against her head, and wore plain gowns that covered a fair amount of skin. Now, she wore a nightgown of pale lavender that made her eyes glow in the firelight. Her hair was also loose, falling around her arms like a river of wine. After a few moments of staring at her, Erik remembered himself, and glared at her with the full force of the Phantom.

"You are either very brave, or very foolish, Mademoiselle. Have you not heard? I am a ghost, a monster. Steel cannot harm one such as me." he said, his voice like ice. For a few minutes, she did not respond, her eyes locked on his. Erik was surprised to see amusement, awe, and curiosity in her eyes. Finally, she chuckled, and drew her dagger from his neck.

"You are no monster. And a ghost could not have carried me to my bed when I passed out from that drug. No, from what I have seen, you are simply a man, doing what he feels is necessary to survive. I am curious about one thing." she said, sitting down in her chair. Erik took note of the Greek book on the table next to her.

"And what is it you are curious about?" he asked, picking up the book and examining the title. It was a copy of the Odyssey.

"I am curious why a man as handsome as you must resort to trickery and threatening a woman's friend to find companionship." she said, sweeping her hair from her face. Erik looked at her, his eyes dark with pain and irritation, but also a hint of surprise. He had never been called handsome.

"You are mad. I am a monster." he hissed. She shook her head, meeting his eyes with hers, her face serene in the firelight.

"If you think that, you are blind. I wonder how often you were called a monster, that you believe it so fully now." she said, and again, Erik was struck by the puzzle that was Mademoiselle StClair.

"You are unlike anyone I have ever met, Mademoiselle. I find you to be a puzzle I have yet to unfurl." he said. She blinked in surprise.

"Most here ignore me. A few call me annoyance, and fewer still call me friend. You call me a puzzle. I'm not quite sure how to take that." she said, and Erik smiled to himself.

"From me, that is a compliment. However, I am curious about one thing." he said, his tone teasing as he used her own words.

"And what is it you are curious about?" she asked, a sly smile on her face.

"I know almost everything that occurs in my opera house. I know that you have the patience your name, StClair, infers, if only to deal with that banshee of a Prima Donna. But in the two years you have lived and worked here, I have never heard anyone call you by your first name." he said. Again, surprise lit up her eyes, and a gentle blush flared along her cheeks.

"It's Calliope."

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A/N: Well? I hope this is okay. Let me know, and I'll put up another chapter in a day or two.


	4. Il Muto

A/N: Nope, still down't own it.

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Calliope was stunned. Of all the scenarios that had run through her mind when she had seen the masked man approach the bed where Christine slept, this had not entered into the equation. She never imagined he would ask her name.

"It's Calliope." she whispered before she could stop herself, a light blush coloring her cheeks. The phantom smiled warmly, his eyes glimmering in the firelight.

"A muse has hidden herself away in my opera house." he said, bowing low before her. She chuckled slightly.

"I am far from a muse, and I am not hidden away." she said, a slight smirk on her lips.

"I do wonder why you only sing for Christine. Your voice should be exalted." he added, and she gave a small gasp, her cheeks flushing crimson. She lowered her eyes to stare at the floor.

"I-I have no formal training. My voice is not that good." she stammered. A pair of black shoes appeared in her vision, and gentle fingers grasped her chin, drawing her to meet his eyes.

"Why do you disparage yourself? Your voice is lovely." he said. A sudden noise from the bed distracted them, as Christine shifted and whimpered in her sleep. Calliope stood and moved to her friend's side, quietly singing the lullaby from her childhood. She looked up and saw only the empty room before her. Sighing, Calliope made sure her friend was deep in slumber before returning to her own bed, her skin tingling from the mysterious ghosts touch, and trying to ignore the growing sense of dread she felt about the current opera.

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Opening night for _Il Muto_ arrived, and Calliope stood in the wings, trying vainly to fix the skirts on Carlotta's horrendous gown before the curtain rose. With an annoyed glare, the Prima Donna kicked at the costume mistress' hands.

"Leave me be girl. You can't even get this damned gown to stay in place. Just stay out of my way." she hissed, and Calliope glared at the diva.

"One would think you would have learned some measure of patience in all your years, Signora." Calliope snapped, standing to face Carlotta. Fury colored her face under the powder she wore, and she turned and stalked off onstage. Calliope glance up at Box 5 and saw Raoul watching the show. The sense of dread that had been growing all month made her stomach clench. Sure enough, the phantom's voice boomed throughout the theater. Christine cried out in fear, and Carlotta glared at the girl.

"Your part is silent, little toad!" the diva sniped. Anger rose in Calliope, and she desired nothing more than to storm onstage and slap the woman, when the phantom's voice answered the comment.

"A toad, Madame? Perhaps it is you who is the toad." he said, and Calliope watched with some amusement, as Carlotta's voice was reduced to a croak. Sensing chaos begin to erupt around her, Calliope climbed a nearby ladder to stand on one of the catwalks, out of the way of the stagehands. She sensed movement behind her, and a gag was tied around her mouth before she could react. A strong rope was tied around her wrists, and she was turned to face the pig, Joseph Bouquet.

"I told you I would get you someday, StClair." he whispered in her ear, his hands running over her body. Pure terror flooded through her, and she struggled against the ropes that held her. As she tried to breath, she realized that the rag in her mouth was soaked in ether, and the rope around her wrists was tied to a hook on the wall. She pulled at the ropes, the biting pain in her wrists helping keep her conscious. Bouquet began to lift her skirts, and Calliope caught a glimpse of what she thought was a white mask in the shadows behind him. As her vision began to cloud over, she saw the shadows move, and a rope flew over the stagehand's head, yanking him away from her by the neck. She heard a scuffle over the music from below, and was dimly aware of screams erupting from the audience. Just before she lost consciousness, she felt strong arms sweep her up from where she kneeled, and the sense of falling, her body cradled against a warm, strong form.

* * *

Erik was still fuming as he swept through the tunnels leading to his lair. He had watched Calliope try to fix the hideous gown that Carlotta wore before the curtain rose, and heard the snide remarks the diva had for her, and had felt a brief surge of anger at the diva. He had grinned widely when his sharp ears heard her biting reply, and the smile had remained as he projected his voice over the theater. After Carlotta had fled the stage, he had not noticed Calliope climb up to the catwalk, and had been moving to a better vantage point to watch his angel when she took over Carlotta's role when he had seen Joseph Bouquet near the wall on the catwalk, and Calliope's terrified face over his shoulder. He had taken note of the clouded look in her eyes as she struggled, and rage flooded through him. Snatching up his Punjab lasso, he slipped it over the pig's throat and yanked him away from the poor woman. The man had fought, but he was drunk, and Erik had easily sent him over the rail of the catwalk, his body dangling at the end of the rope. Turning, he released Calliope's hands and pulled the wet gag from her mouth, concern and fear flashing through him when her head lolled forward. He scooped her up into his arms, and pulled a hidden lever, dropping them through a trapdoor into the tunnels. Once he landed, he moved her head back and pressed his ear close to her chest, breathing a sigh of relief when he heard her breathing. Now, he was intent on getting her somewhere safe. In short order, he reached his lair, and laid the unconscious woman in his bed. Looking her over, he felt the anger again as he saw the raw marks on her wrists from the rope that had restrained her. If he could, he would kill the pig Bouquet twice! Turning, Erik moved out of his room and sat before his organ, his fingers running over the keys easily, a gentle song lifting from the pipes to sooth Calliope as she rested. As he played, Erik thought about the confusing emotions the evening had provided. He had been angry when he found the foolish Vicompt in his box, but it paled in comparison to the rage he had felt upon seeing the stagehand pinning Calliope to a wall, his hands reaching to lift her skirts. Erik had always disliked the stagehand for his uncouth manner around the females of the opera house, but he had not felt such rage as when he attacked the pig since he had killed the gypsy that had held him prisoner as a child. Thinking back, he remembered the little thrill that had gone up his spine when he had grasped her chin and made her look at him. There was something about those eyes that had captured him, but he had pushed the feeling aside, harshly reminding himself of his angel.

_But were you thinking of Christine when you swept Calliope into your arms?_ a small part of him whispered. _No, all you could think of was how dim the opera house would be with out your muse._ Erik closed his eyes, forcing his thoughts away and letting the music seep over him.

* * *

Slowly, Calliope became aware of a gentle melody drifting around her. Slowly, she opened her eyes and took note that she lay on a bed carved to resemble a phoenix in flight, covered in velvet sheets. Carefully, she sat up, swinging her feet off the side of the bed. She clutched her head as her vision swam for a moment, and let out a breath as the memory of Bouquet's hands on her filled her mind. Slowly, the rest of her memory returned, and she stood to walk carefully out of the room she was in. She approached the doorway and bit back a gasp at the sight before her. She stood in a cavern, a lake swirling with mist ten steps away. She turned slowly and saw a beautiful organ, lit from behind, and surrounded by candles. Hunched over the keys of the organ was a familiar figure in a white shirt and black pants. Silently, Calliope moved forward on slippered feet to stand near the organ, letting the music wash over her. She closed her eyes, relishing the magical feeling of the music. When the song ended, her eyes slid open and she saw the phantom gazing at her, several emotions warring in his eyes.

"That was beautiful." she whispered. Slowly, he stood and took her hand gently, pulling her wrist up to examine the marks the rope had left.

"Are you in any pain?" he whispered, his velvety voice sliding over her like a dream. She shook her head.

"I am alright. You saved me from that beast. I think Christine was right. You are an angel." she whispered, her eyes heavy lidded, a lingering effect of the ether. He scoffed and released her hand.

"I am no angel. Not with this face. Even Christine does not believe me to be her angel anymore." he said. Calliope moved forward, laying her hand on his arm.

"The god Hephaestus was terribly maimed, yet he held the heart of Aphrodite, and was the kindest of the Pantheon. If she cannot see past whatever is behind this mask, she is a fool." she replied, running her fingers lightly over the smooth white porcelain. His eyes slid closed his muscles tensing as if he were bracing himself for something. Carefully, Calliope pulled her hands behind her back and took a small step backwards, feeling suddenly cold away from his presence. His eyes opened, surprise and relief flashing through them as he composed himself.

"I should return you to your rooms. They will soon realize you are missing." he said. She nodded, taking the hand he offered as he led her through the tunnels to the opera house. She did not pay attention to her surroundings, instead glancing discreetly at her savior's face as they walked. When they reached her rooms, Calliope turned and pressed a soft kiss to his left cheek, lingering a second longer than she should have.

"Thank you, Monsieur. For everything." she whispered against his skin. As she pulled away, she saw the stunned look on his face.

"Bonne Nuit, my dear muse." he whispered, and slipped away, the secret door closing behind him. No sooner had he left her than the main door to her room opened, revealing a very concerned Christine.

"Roux! Thank God your safe! Raoul and I have been looking everywhere for you! Where have you been?"

* * *

A/N: All together now; AWWWW! I promise that the next couple of chapters will have a tad more insight into Calliope's past, and I am only one or two chapters from the Masquerade party! Now, the green button is calling to you, can you hear?


	5. Memories and Dances

A/N: Dang, It took a few days to log in! I don't know what happened but now everybody is updating, and that includes me. Hope you like!

* * *

Erik stumbled into his lair, a dazed expression still on his face. She kissed him. She willingly kissed him, and did not hold any fear in her eyes when she did. Never had he been shown such affection! Oh, this woman would eternally surprise him! And then their was the way she had run her fingers along his mask. The light touch had reminded Erik of the way that Christine had curled her fingers around the edges and pulled it away. Indeed, he had expected her to pull the porcelain away and scream in terror, and had steeled himself thusly. But surprise of surprises, she had stepped back, watching her curiously with those amethyst orbs. Erik sat at his organ, touching his cheek where she had kissed him with those tender lips, and smiled. He recalled the way Antoinette Giry had looked at him when he was a boy, her young face full of pity and empathy, and he had thought for the longest time that that was the sum of affection he could expect from anyone. Calliope had watched him attack and murder that pig, Bouquet, and had still thanked him, called him an angel. A gentle smile rested on his face as he began to play, thinking of those beautiful eyes gazing at him in grateful happiness.

* * *

"I don't understand. Why were you on the catwalk?" Christine asked. She and Calliope were dressed for bed, sitting facing each other on the bed. Calliope was brushing Christine's hair and explaining again what had happened. Calliope sighed, feeling her own hair slide over her skin, and felt heat flood her face when she remembered the way the phantom's eyes had darkened slightly when he had faced her that night in her nightclothes.

"When Carlotta began to croak, things backstage began to go crazy. I was standing right next to the ladder, so I went up to avoid being trampled. No one ever notices me, Christine. That's why I went up. I was stupid, and let my guard down. That pig was waiting for it, and he tied my hands and forced a rag in my mouth before I could think. I couldn't fight back, no matter how hard I tried. Christine, the rag was soaked in ether. I would have died if your angel had not attacked Bouquet. He saved me." she said. Christine turned to face her friend, a scared look on her face.

"Roux, he cannot be an angel. I have seen his lair, and it seems to be a dream made real, but it's all an illusion. I've seen his face. No angel would look that monstrous." she whispered. Calliope slammed the brush down, her eyes flashing as anger flooded through her.

"Christine Daae! How dare you make such assumptions! Your angel taught you when no one else would take the time. He did everything in his power to make you a star like you dreamed, and he saved my life! I never imagined you could be so shallow! A pretty face can hide the truly monstrous, never forget that!" she snapped. Christine blinked, her eyes wide in surprise at her friend's anger, then she found her voice again.

"Roux, he _drugged_ you! For all you know, he could have stolen your virtue that night, and be no better than the man he killed." she shot back. A sad look crossed Calliope's face as she looked away, staring unseeing into the fire.

"He did not. I have no virtue to steal." she whispered. Christine's eyes went wide with realization. She reached out and took the costume mistress' hands in hers.

"One of the stagehands?" she asked gently. Calliope shook her head, lifting the edge of her nightgown, revealing a scar on her thigh, where her dagger normally hid.

"I'm sure by now you have noticed that I am not like other women. My father was French, and a great supporter of this opera house in his day. My mother was from Persia. Her beauty was envied throughout the land, and many men were envious of my father. As a child, my parents brought me to Paris once. That was how I met Madame Giry and her husband. If you ask her, Madame will tell you how I loved to dance to the songs of my homeland that my mother would sing. Father died when I was ten, and Mother and I had to work to earn money. Mother would sew, and I would dance. Christine, you must understand that the dances of my homeland are much different than the dances you perform here. There was a local tribal leader, a rather handsome man, who would often hire me to dance. I was naïve, and I thought he did so in order to help my mother. When I was twenty-two, my mother died from illness. That night, the chief's men came to my house, and dragged me out. I was taken to his home where he told me I had been chosen for his harem. I refused. My mother had often told me that due to my bloodline, I had the right to refuse any man. The chief did not like my answer. I fought the entire night against him, but it was no use. The chief and his advisors all took their turns, and when they were finished with me, the chief took a dagger and cut me, marking me as undesirable. That was when he made his fatal mistake. He turned his back on me, and I took the dagger and drove it into his heart. I fled to my home, gathered my family treasures, and ran away. It took me two years to reach Paris, and when I arrived, I found Madame Giry and told her of my parent's deaths. I never told her what had happened to me, or what I had done. I don't think I could bear the shame if she knew the truth of what happened to me. That is why I never feared the phantom, Christine. Why should I be afraid of a ghost when I have faced true monsters?" she asked, tears sliding down her face. Christine was silent, tears flowing down her own face. Swiftly, she flung her arms around her friend, the pair crying together for the pain in Calliope's past, and Christine silently thanked the heavens she had been spared such pain in her own life.

Calliope sat up in her bed a few hours later. Christine slept the peaceful sleep of the innocent, but Calliope's mind was reeling. She stood and fetched the small chest that was hidden beneath her bed, drawing out a small bundle of black material. Moving on silent feet, she went into the back rooms of her domain, the costume rooms. Her mind would not rest, and she wanted to put some of her past to rest. She swiftly changed into the black belly dancer's outfit she had carried from Persia. The tight black top ended just below her breasts, leaving her middle bare. The low slung harem pants hugged her hips and the sash of coins sparkled in the candlelight. Calliope looked at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that as she took note of the fact that the outfit still fit perfectly. In her mind, she heard the music of the dances, and she began to sway, loosing herself to the memories, never realizing that a familiar pair of green eyes were watching her from the shadows.

* * *

Erik had not expected anyone to be awake at that time, and had slipped into the costume rooms to purloin some fabric. He had heard the door and retreated into the shadows as Calliope stepped into the room, a black bundle in her hands. She stepped behind a dressing screen and Erik was assailed with images from his memory, the skin of her leg as she sheathed her dagger, the smooth expanse of her arms as she held that same blade against his throat. When she stepped out from behind the dressing screen, it took all his will not to gasp out loud. She wore an outfit that was similar to the costumes from Hannibal, but was unique. The black top barely covered her chest, leaving her middle completely exposed, and the pants hung low on her hips, a sash of gold coins wrapped over those same hips. He watched as she approached the mirror, looking over the fit of the outfit. Then her eyes slid closed and she began to sway to music only she heard, and he had to bite back a groan. God above, his muse would be the death of him! She swayed and arched, her movements sensuous and graceful, the kind of dancing that drew men to take a woman to his bed. Indeed, Erik was tempted to step from the shadows and sweep her into his arms, and he was hard pressed to resist. Finally, her movements slowed, and she stopped, her chest heaving slightly as she gasped for breath, a light sheen of sweat glimmering on her skin, her hair loose and flowing down her back.

"Had I known you could dance like that, I would have insisted you join the corps de ballet." Madame Giry's voice broke the spell of the dance, and Calliope jumped in surprise. Erik pulled deeper into the shadows so as not to be seen.

"I would never be as good as your dancers, and would not see their performance suffer because of my ineptitude. I know only the dances of my homeland, and I will not dance them again." Calliope said briskly, moving behind the dressing screen. When she reemerged in her nightgown and dressing robe, Madame Giry came forward and took the younger woman's hands.

"Petit, I do not know what happened to you when your parent's died to make you hide yourself away, but know this. If you were to show even a small portion of your nerve, you could easily outshine Christine. Perhaps if it had been you in her shoes, none of this would have happened."

"If I had been in Christine's place, I would have throttled Carlotta years ago." Calliope answered, a smirk on her face. Madame Giry laughed at this, and moved to lead Calliope out the door. Erik smiled as well, inspiration flowing through him.

"Thank you my muse. You have given me such inspiration this night." he whispered, pitching his voice so only she could hear him, the smile growing when her head snapped up, her amethyst eyes darting around the room, but he was gone, down into the depths of the opera house.

* * *

Over the course of the next three months, there were no more messages from the opera ghost. The managers had decided not to begin a new opera until after the New Years Masquerade Ball, but that did not mean that Calliope had any rest. She had to prepare the costume's for the ball, and Carlotta was being even more insufferable than normal. Every few days, the diva had called for her, shrieking about something that wasn't right or that the gown was too tight. Finally, it was the week before the ball, and Calliope had finally entered her rooms. It was late at night, and she was exhausted. She collapsed into her chair, sighing as her muscles protested. This close to the ball, she had no time to prepare her own costume, and she suspected that Carlotta knew it.

"Ah well. I just won't go. Again. I swear that banshee plans this every year. It definitely explains how she manages to gain ten pounds right before the ball, and lose it just as quickly afterward." she said to the empty room. She looked down at her book, and shook her head, groaning as her neck protested the movement. A pair of strong, gentle hands rested on her shoulders.

"Something is troubling you my muse. You have been working so very hard lately. I hardly see you leave the costume rooms." the phantom whispered in her ear. Calliope sighed in delight as his hands began to knead the stiff muscles in her neck and shoulders gently.

"Carlotta is being more unreasonable than usual this year about her costume for the ball." she replied, relishing in the feeling of her muscles loosening under his touch.

"Are you excited for the ball, dear muse?" he asked, and she turned her head to gaze into the fire.

"I will not be attending. I have no costume, and I have no time to make one, nor the money to order one made." she replied, her eyes growing heavy as the weeks of work caught up to her.

"You deserve to go to the ball more than anyone. It doesn't seem right that you be denied."

"I never get to go. Why should this year be any different? Hmmm, you never told me your name, angel." she whispered, her head lolling forward in exhaustion. She felt his arms sweep her up and lay her in bed, pulling the blankets over her body. The last thing she heard was his silken voice whispering in her ear.

"My name is Erik."

* * *

Erik smiled gently at his muse as she lay in her bed, a serene expression on her face. Turning, he hurried through the tunnels to the hidden door in Antoinette's rooms. He swiftly knocked, and a moment later, the ballet mistress opened the door, surprise evident on her face.

"Erik? What is it? I haven't heard a word from you in almost three months." she said, stepping back as Erik entered the room and pressed a money purse into her hands.

"Antoinette, I need you to arrange a costume for Mademoiselle StClair for the ball. Carlotta's overindulgence of chocolates has robbed the poor girl of the time to make her own." he said, moving over to the desk and writing down several details for the gown and mask with his muse in mind. He turned back to Antoinette, who was glaring at him, suspicion plain on her face.

"Why are you doing this? Is it not enough that you torment Christine, now you would torture this poor girl? A-Calliope has been through enough in her life, she doesn't need you adding to this." the ballet mistress accused. Erik rose to his full height.

"The girl has granted me inspiration, and I am in her debt. Every year Carlotta robs Calliope of the chance to attend the ball, and I wish her to attend this year. Antoinette, she deserves this more than anyone else." he said. Antoinette's face softened, and she took the sheet of paper gently from his hands.

"Very well. I will do this because I agree with you. She does deserve this." she said. Erik smiled and squeezed the woman's hand gently.

"Thank you, my friend." he said, stepping through the hidden door, missing the shocked expression on Antoinette's face.

* * *

A/N: Well, next chapter is the Masquerade Ball! I should have it up in a day or two. Meanwhile, please review!


	6. Masquerade

A/N: It's time! The Masquerade! I still don't own a thing but Calliope.

* * *

Calliope entered her rooms and slammed the door. The ball would be starting in an hour, and she would be once again resigned to listening to the music filter through the walls. She moved to her chair by the fire and picked up a book of tales from Egypt. She tried hard to focus on the pages, but her vision swam and a tear dropped to the page. Angrily, she slammed the book closed and stood, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. Why was she so upset this year, as opposed to the times before? The first year she had been there, the idea of attending the ball had terrified her. The second, she hadn't thought anything of not having time. What made this year so different?

_You are what is so different_, a part of her mind whispered. _You have more nerve these past few months, and you want what you deserve._ Calliope shook her head, and went to her chest below her bed. She pulled the ropes of black pearls from one corner and laid them against her skin, remembering how her mother had worn them for her father, who had said they were the most beautiful thing in the world when she wore them. A knock at the door distracted her from her thoughts, and she stood quickly, pulling the door open to find Madame Giry holding a pair of boxes.

"You're going to be late, Petit. Now, quickly, get dressed." she said, handing the larger box to the young woman. Surprised, Calliope allowed herself to be ushered behind her dressing screen, where she opened the box. A gasp rose from her throat at the sight of the gown. It was black, with red embroidery in the bodice and skirt the same color as her hair. The sleeves were off the shoulder, and barely covered her upper arms. There was no corset, but the bodice fit her perfectly, and Calliope marveled at the skill put into the gown. She had no idea that anyone had done this, and had certainly not stood for a fitting, yet the gown fit perfectly. She stepped out from behind the screen, and allowed Madame Giry to pin and curl her hair so it framed her face. Finally, she opened the smaller box to reveal a beautiful black mask that covered her face from her forehead to the tip of her nose. Calliope quickly added her mother's pearls around her neck, and Madame Giry added one strand to her hair. When Calliope looked in the mirror, she was amazed at the sight before her. The woman in the mirror was stunning, an exotic beauty that could take any man's breath away. Dark memories lurched to the forefront of her mind, and her hands began to tremble.

"Madame, I don't think I can do this." she whispered. Madame took her hands and smiled warmly at the costume mistress.

"Petit, you are going to go to the ball, and you will enjoy yourself. I made a promise that you would attend, and I intend to keep that promise. I think that you will outshine even Christine." she replied. Calliope grinned widely and allowed the older woman to lead her out to the ball.

When she entered the main area of the opera house, Calliope felt all eyes on her. At first, she was nervous, but then she realized that no one knew who she was because of the masks, so she stood tall, and moved gracefully through the crowd. She smirked inwardly at the sight of Carlotta gaping at the gorgeous woman who flowed through in black and red silk and lace, and Calliope smiled slightly at the diva as she breezed past. She looked around to see if she could spot Christine and Raoul. Finally, she noticed Christine at the edge of the crowd in a lovely pink gown and no mask. Calliope slipped through the crowd and leaned over her friends shoulder.

"Christine, you look beautiful, even though I normally detest that color." she whispered, and the soprano turned in surprise, meeting a pair of familiar amethyst eyes.

"Roux? I didn't think you were coming! You said you didn't have time to make yourself a costume!" Christine said.

"I didn't. Madame Giry arrived at my door not an hour ago with this gown. It isn't like her to spend this much money on me." Calliope replied. A flash of light attracted her attention to a beautiful diamond ring that hung on Christine's neck by a silver chain.

"Well, you look gorgeous." Christine said. Calliope grinned and leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

"Your engagement ring outshines me, rossignol." The young singer blushed and smiled as Raoul appeared to sweep Christine onto the dance floor. As she watched her friends dance, Calliope noticed a man garbed in blue satin approach her. When she looked fully at him, she froze in terror as her eyes took in the sultan's costume. He bowed and Calliope instantly knew he was French.

"May I have this dance, Mademoiselle?" he asked, his eyes raking over her. Calliope drew in a deep breath and shook her head.

"I am afraid I must decline, Monsieur. I am a terrible dancer." she said smoothly. The man nodded, and turned to find another partner, and Calliope looked down to see her hands trembling slightly with fear. Suddenly, a loud bang and a plume of smoke, followed by several gasps drew her attention to the stairs, where The tall figure of the Phantom stood. Calliope was stunned as she took in the sight before her. He wore a shirt that matched the embroidery in her dress, and black trousers and boots as well as a black cape. He had traded in his normal mask, and now wore a mask that covered his entire face to his mouth, in the shape of a skull. Calliope quickly rushed to Christine's side as she saw that Raoul was nowhere to be seen. She gripped the soprano's hand tightly as the Phantom began to descend the stairs, giving instructions to the managers in song. Calliope was entranced by his voice.

_No wonder Christine called him her angel of music. His voice alone could captivate anyone!_ she thought. The Phantom was approaching Christine now, his eyes locked on her ring. Right as he reached for the chain, Calliope pulled her away and stepped in front of the girl, finding herself staring into blazing green eyes.

"Ah, yes, the lovely costume mistress. The one person who does not fear me. Let us see how long that brave front will last!" he cried, and caught her around her waist, pulling her body flush against his. A wall of fire surrounded them and Calliope felt the ground beneath her feet vanish. She didn't even have time to scream before they landed, and he pulled her into the shadows, pressing a finger to her lips.

"I am sorry for the theatrics, dear muse, but it was necessary. Don't say a word. The fool Vicompt has followed us. Stay here for a moment." he whispered. She nodded, mesmerized by his voice. He moved away, and Calliope grabbed his arm.

"Don't hurt him. He is only doing what he thinks is right." she breathed. He looked down at her and nodded, his eyes softening, and he led her away from the spinning mirrors and down into the tunnels leading to his lair. When they arrived, Erik turned around and crossed his arms, looking at her. She sighed and placed her hands on her hips.

"How will your opera be completed when the costume mistress has been kidnapped?" she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. Erik did not reply right away, simply gazing at the gown she wore.

"You look beautiful. I am glad my instructions were followed." he said softly. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"You did this for me? But why? I would think that Christine-"

"Christine has a lovely singing voice, and she can bring my music to life, this is true. However, you have given me inspiration, and your eyes hold no fear of me. Even when we stood in the middle of the ball, you did not look afraid of me. There have only been two times I have seen you truly afraid. First, when that pig Bouquet had you beneath him, and then tonight when that man approached you . Was it the man himself, or the costume that had you so frightened?" he asked. Memories assaulted her, and she turned away, tears filling her eyes.

* * *

Erik silently cursed himself when he saw his muse turn from him, trembling with fear. Guilt and concern flooded his chest and he moved swiftly forward, pulling her into his arms.

"My sweet muse, if I have upset you, I am sorry. It is clear to me that your memories are painful, and I will not ask you to relive them aloud just for my curiosity. I cannot bear being the cause of your pain." he whispered. Her tremors slowed, and finally ceased as she leaned into the warmth of his arms. Finally, she moved away, sitting down on the bench before the organ, her eyes fixed on the lake beyond them.

"I am something of an outcast like you, Erik. My father was French, but my mother was a Persian woman. She was so beautiful, with ebony hair, and eyes like sapphires. Many men were envious of my father when he married her. He died when I was a child, and my mother and I had to work rather hard to survive. We made beautiful clothes for the woman of our village, and when I was old enough, I began to dance to earn more money. The local chief would often hire me to dance at his banquets. He was a very handsome man, and had several women. The night after my mother died, the men came and dragged me to his home. He wanted me for his harem. I fought him so hard, shrieking loud enough to put Carlotta to shame! When he was finished with me, he marked me as undesirable. I escaped and spent two years making my way here to Paris. I never told Madame that I could dance because I didn't want to put myself in a position like that again. In Paris, I am a foreign half-breed unfit for marriage, and in my homeland, I am marked as more trouble than I am worth. Worse than that, I would risk my life returning for my crimes. It is why I stay hidden away in the costumes." she said. Looking up, her eyes were filled with tear as she gazed at him.

"Erik, you are lucky. You can hide behind a mask, and people will only focus on what you want them to see. My very skin betrays me, and reveals me for the outsider I am. It is why I am treated as little better than a slave." she whispered. Erik was stunned. The woman before him was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. But she was right. She at least had fearful respect. She was treated horribly by those in the opera house. The managers never called her by name, and hardly ever addressed her, and Carlotta was even worse. His heart ached for her, and he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. He held her for a few moments, just relishing the feeling of holding a goddess in his arms, a woman who did not care what he looked like under his mask. Looking down, his eyes were drawn to her mouth, and he wondered what she tasted like. With hardly a thought for Christine, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

When she had finished her story, Calliope had expected Erik to tell her she had no idea of his torment, but he had pulled her into his arms. She had leaned her head against his chest, smiling softly at the feeling of his arms around her. She had looked up and met his eyes, and was surprised to see pain, and sympathy in those emerald depths. Then he had leaned down and kissed her, his lips pressed firmly to hers. She melted against his body, feeling his arms tighten around her as she returned the kiss. When air became necessary, he pulled back and gazed into her eyes.

"The world must be blind, if they cannot see the goddess that moves amongst them." he breathed. Calliope gazed into his eyes as his hands slowly cam up and pulled the mask free from her face and set it aside. She kept her hands locked behind his neck, not willing to do as Christine had surely done. Slowly, and with a shaking hand, Erik reached for his own mask as if to remove it. She unclasped her hands and laid them over his own, holding his mask in place.

"I won't make you show me your face. Don't take it off unless you are truly ready. Please do not feel you have to." she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. She moved her hands away from his face and slid her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. She felt Erik sigh at the action, and one of his hands went around her waist to hold her close. She watched as his right hand slowly descended before her field of vision, his mask clasped gently in his fingers.

* * *

A/N: Well?! God, I hope this turned out right. But it's not going to be all roses and music for these two, there is still a lot more to come. Please let me know how you like it.


	7. Returns and Betrayals

A/N: Okay, here's where things get a little tricky for the lovebirds. Also, I have no idea how the dances really went in Don Juan, but there are close to belly dancing here. It's called creative license for a reason. Still don't own anything but the movie soundtrack.

* * *

Erik's mind was reeling. This woman in his arms was truly the goddess he proclaimed her to be. How different she was from Christine, the angel of his past. The child had been terrified when confronted with his face, and he had feared Calliope would be the same. Instead, she stopped his shaking hands, a serene smile on her face as she told him it didn't matter to her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, his heart soaring at her words, her touch. But he had to know. Would she be horrified by his grotesque continence, as the soprano had? If not, oh the possibilities would be endless! Slowly, Erik pulled the skull mask from his face and lowered his hand, the mask lightly held in his fingers before her eyes. He stared down at her as those beautiful amethyst orbs turned upwards to gaze upon his face. He tensed, waiting for the fear and revulsion to fill those lovely eyes, but it never came. Instead, her fingers came up and gently traced over the deformed flesh on the right side of his face. Her light touch was so sensual that he drew in a sharp breath, a shiver running up his spine. Then her lips were on his skin, gently caressing the lumpy part of his cheek, the corner of his eye. Finally her lips returned to his, and Erik returned her kiss with fervor. After several moments, they pulled apart, and Erik gazed down into her heavy lidded eyes.

"I must return you now, my sweet muse, or the fool will surely form a mob to hunt me down for your capture. Listen carefully. When they find you, tell them that your disappearance was a warning. My opera will be performed, or they might lose someone more precious to them. Christine will see to it that your message is obeyed." he said, his voice dropping to hypnotic levels. His muse nodded slowly before her eyes rolled up into her head, her body going limp in his arms. Erik swept her up and carried her through the tunnels to her rooms, where he laid her gently in her bed. As he left, he placed the black mask and a red rose on her dressing table. He turned back and gazed once more at the goddess before him. She had been through so much, and it broke his heart that no one else saw her for the beauty she truly was.

* * *

"She's here! Mademoiselle StClair is safe in her rooms!" Meg Giry's voice crying out from the door to her rooms woke Calliope. Carefully, she sat up, her mind replaying the events following the ball. She smiled to herself as she recalled the first kiss, and closed her eyes as she recalled the feel of Erik's arms around her. Her daydreams were shattered when several people came thundering into her rooms. Christine flung her arms around the costume mistress sobbing. Madame Giry, Raoul, and the managers were also in attendance.

"Oh, Roux, I was so frightened! I didn't know what he would have done to you! I'm so sorry, this is all my fault!" she cried. Calliope calmly soothed her friend.

"Are you unharmed? I tried to follow, but I became so turned around by those damnable mirrors." Raoul said, his fists clenching.

"I am fine. My abduction was meant as a warning. If we do not perform his opera, the Phantom might very well take someone more important next time. It was also a reminder to both Christine and myself what happens when we defy his will." Calliope said, the lies flowing easily from her mouth.

"This is ridiculous! I will not allow this maniac to order me around like some servant!" M. Firmin snapped. Christine looked up at Raoul in fear.

"No! We must do as he says! Raoul, please! I cannot bear it if anything more were to happen to Roux!" she sobbed. Raoul fixed the managers with a firm glare.

"We will perform this opera, if only for my fiancée's peace of mind." he said, the tone in his voice that of nobility. Madame Giry took this opportunity to clear her throat.

"Now that you have made your decisions, I must insist that you all leave. Mademoiselle StClair is surly exhausted from her ordeal. Meg, dear, go to the kitchens and fetch some tea. I will sit with her until you return." the ballet mistress said, her tone the same as she used on misbehaving ballet rats. Everyone quickly filed out of the room, and Madame Giry closed the door behind them, before fixing the costume mistress with her steely gaze.

"Alright, I want the truth. Did he harm you in any way?" she demanded. Calliope fixed the older woman with her own gaze.

"He did not. He called my abduction theatricality. The message was from his own lips." she replied, feeling a rush of heat as she remembered what else had come from those lips. Madame Giry raised an eyebrow at the younger woman, and sighed.

"Very well. This opera will be difficult for my dancers. The routines are closer to the dances of your homeland. I wish you could lead them." she said. Calliope reached out and took the ballet mistress' hands in hers.

"Then I shall lead them. I will need help with the costumes, at least two people. I will make sure your dancers are able to dance as I once did." she said. Madame blinked in surprise.

"Petit, are you sure? I do not want you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable." she protested. Calliope nodded.

"I am sure. It is time I stepped from the shadows and left my past behind. This is just another step on that path."

* * *

Erik was confused. Over the past two weeks, he had slipped into Calliope's rooms late at night, only to find she had not yet retired. He often found her hunched over her sewing, so completely focused on her work she did not notice that he had entered. So, he would simply slip away and bring her a cup of tea, placing it on the table nearby, and leave her to her work. Every day, he left a red rose on her pillow, hoping to bring a smile to her face. Now he stood in the shadows of the costume rooms, watching in puzzlement as two strange women worked over the costumes. Turning, he moved through the tunnels to the catwalks above the stage to watch the dancers rehearse. What he saw stopped his breath in his throat. Calliope stood alongside Madame Giry, clad in her belly dancer's outfit, working through the steps with them. The dancers were looking to her with a sense of awe as she showed them exactly how to move their hips and lift their arms to achieve the proper look. Even Carlotta seemed to be impressed by the costume mistress' hidden talents. Erik was rooted to the spot until the rehearsals ended, and then he watched as Calliope turned to leave, only to come face to face with M. Firmin.

"You are a most exceptional woman, Mademoiselle. How is it that you remain unattached?" he asked, his eyes roving over her body. Rather than flinch away as Erik expected, considering her past, Calliope stood firm and met the manager's gaze with an icy one of her own.

"Simple. I will not be a trophy bride, and the men of my homeland do not desire a pale wife. And before you say anything else, keep in mind that Persian women sleep with daggers under our pillows. Why do you think there are so many eunuchs in our country?" she said smoothly, before gliding off down the halls. Erik grinned widely, his heart swelling with admiration and pride at her reaction. Laughing softly, he moved through his secret passages to the hidden door in her rooms, and saw that she had collapsed onto her chair, a huge yawn escaping from her mouth. Silently, Erik slipped in and placed a tender kiss to her neck.

"You are dancing in my opera?" he asked softly. She turned and met his lips with hers lazily.

"I am the only one who can teach them properly." she murmured. Erik pulled her up into his arms and gazed lovingly into her eyes.

"You have blossomed into such a treasure. At every turn you surprise me." he whispered. She sighed and leaned against his body. He could tell she was exhausted.

"I surprise myself. It is you that has given me this courage. Were it not for you I would be hiding in the costumes still." she said, her eyes sliding closed. Erik picked her up and laid her in bed, drawing the covers over his exhausted goddess. Leaning down, he brushed a lock of hair from her face and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, whispering so softly against her skin he was unsure if she heard him.

"I love you, my sweet muse."

* * *

The opening for Don Juan drew near, and Calliope couldn't help but notice that Christine was a nervous wreck. After finding her pacing in the chapel for the fourth time in two days, Calliope pushed a cloak into her hands.

"Come with me. A trip to see your father will put your mind at ease." she said. The sheer relief on the soprano's face eased Calliope's own concern. Ever since the night Erik had learned she was dancing in his opera, she had not seen him. Every evening she would stumble into her rooms in the early morning hours to find a red rose laying on her pillow, and her dreams had been filled with images of him, and his voice whispering that he loved her. She knew without a doubt that she was completely in love with this wonderful man, and she wished she could see him even for a moment, just to tell him so. The two women entered the stables where they climbed into a carriage. Calliope was so exhausted from her long hours that she fell asleep quickly as the carriage rocked. She was awoken by someone shaking her shoulders and calling to her.

"Roux, Roux wake up! Where is Christine?" she opened her eyes to see Raoul staring at her. She looked around and saw the cemetery.

"She went to her father's crypt." Calliope quickly replied. Without a second look, Raoul raced into the graveyard, sword in hand. Calliope sat up and noticed that the carriage driver was missing. She clambered out of the carriage and made her way through the rows of gravestones. Hearing the sounds of battle, she sped up. When she reached the row where Gustave Daae was buried, Calliope felt her heart shatter into a hundred pieces. Erik and Raoul were locked in a duel, their swords striking each other with deadly force. Christine cowered on the steps before the crypt, watching in terror as the two men fought for her.

_And why should he not still want Christine?_ a dark corner of her mind whispered. _Why would he want a mongrel half breed Persian when he can have the perfect, untarnished beauty that is Christine._ Raoul manage to knock Erik's sword away, and Calliope moved to stop him from delivering the final blow, but Christine was faster, pleading with Raoul. Erik propped himself up, watching in anger as Raoul and Christine mounted a white steed, then his eyes locked onto Calliope. She held his gaze for only a moment before the heartache was too much to bear. Then Raoul and Christine were before her and she was lifted up behind the soprano. The horse was sturdy, and they reached the opera house swiftly.

"Roux? Are you alright?" Christine asked. Calliope smiled falsely.

"Of course, rossignol. I am relieved you are unharmed. Forgive me, but I am over weary, and I must rest. We wouldn't want one of the dancers to collapse onstage!" she lied, turning and sweeping into her rooms. After firmly locking the door, she threw her self onto her bed, allowing the tears she had held back since the battle to finally fall. She sobbed into her pillow until she had no more tears, falling into a dreamless sleep. All the while, a pair of sorrowful green eyes watched from the shadows.

* * *

Erik cursed out loud, flinging over a table that held several carvings he had been working on for his muse.

_How could you have been so stupid?_ he thought. _Chasing after your angel when a goddess adores you despite your face?!_ Erik turned and picked up a stack of papers, flinging them across the ground before his organ. When he had seen Christine leaving the opera house, intent on visiting her father's grave, he had feared she would leave before his opera could be performed. So he took the drivers place and took the two women to the graveyard. When he saw Christine head into the cemetery alone, he decided to slip in after her and use his hypnotic voice to convince her to stay. Unfortunately that idiot Vicompt had followed and assumed he meant to steal the soprano away. In the heat of the fight, he forgot who he was fighting for, and the fool had gotten past his defenses. When he had gotten up to watch them leave, what he saw instead stopped his heart cold. Calliope, his beautiful muse, the woman he loved, stood just feet away, staring at him. He saw the heartbroken look on her face, saw the tear that slipped down her cheek. He wanted to run to her side and kiss away her pain. Instead, he watched as she was pulled onto the horse behind Raoul and Christine and rode away. Now his beloved muse was heartbroken, and he ha no idea how to make it right.

* * *

A/N: Sob! Poor Calliope! Poor Erik! But don't fret dear readers, all will be resolved shortly. And the next chapter promises a little more of Calliope's past. Please review!


	8. Don Juan and Confessions

A/N: Okay, I can't have all this sadness for too long. What can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic! Yeah, I still don't own it.

* * *

The opening day for Don Juan arrived, and Calliope was sitting before her dressing table, absently brushing her hair. She wore her costume, and her mother's pearls were waiting to be woven amongst her hair. She chanced a fleeting glance at the heavy table that had been moved in front of the hidden door that Erik would often use to visit her. A soft knock sounded at the main door, and Madame Giry stepped through, a worried look on her face.

"Petit, is something wrong? You have hardly spoken all week, and eaten even less. I only ever see you in the costume rooms or onstage with the dancers. Please, tell me what has happened." she asked, sitting next to the younger woman.

"I am leaving the opera house, and Paris, for good. I will be returning to my homeland." she said quietly.

"But why? You never told me what happened to you. I think you owe me an explanation." the ballet mistress said. With tears in her eyes, Calliope told the older woman everything. Madame Giry looked on with a shocked expression as the costume mistress told of her father's death, her dancing, and finally her mother's death and the horrible night afterwards.

"Madame, I killed him for what he did. It is time that I face my past. I will go to my grandfather and plead for mercy, though I do not expect it." Calliope said. Madame Giry was shaking her head.

"No, petit. I cannot let you go, not when it could mean your death. These last few weeks you have come out of your shell and revealed yourself to be a rare pearl, just like your mother's treasures. Your parents would be so proud of you. I know I am." she said. Calliope's tears seemed to increase.

"My heart is broken, Madame. I cannot stay here any longer." she sobbed. Madame Giry took the girl into her arms as realization struck.

"It's Erik, isn't it? You were there at the cemetery when he and the Vicompt fought." she said. Calliope looked away, smoothing away her tears. When she looked at Madame Giry, her face was carefully blank.

"Why should he look at a half breed, when a perfect angel stands before the world." she whispered. Madame Giry stood up and fixed Calliope with a hard glare.

"Calliope-Amira StClair! How dare you think even for a moment that you are any less important than Christine? You possess a strength and grace that most girls can only dream of. Never doubt yourself." she said. Calliope smiled sadly and gathered her pearls and her coin sash.

"I must go help Christine prepare." she said, and left the room. Madame Giry turned and stalked over to the dresser, pulling it away from the hidden door. When she yanked it open, she saw Erik's mask in the difference.

"Erik, you are a fool! Your precious muse is leaving for her homeland, where she faces almost certain death. If you do not resolve this, I will track you down and throttle you myself!" she snapped.

* * *

Fear ensconced itself in Erik's heart. Death? What could she have done that meant her death?

"What could her crime possibly be? She was a victim of a cruel man. If I could, I would hunt him down and kill him myself!" he said, anger lacing his words. Antoinette's eyes softened sadly.

"She did not tell you? She killed him Erik. After the man cut her, she took up the blade and ran it through his heart. If she returns to Persia, she will surely be executed. Women are held in even less regard in her homeland." Antoinette explained. Erik was stunned.

"She cannot leave!" he insisted. The ballet mistress raised an eyebrow at him, folding her arms over her chest.

"She is leaving because you have broken her heart. She is in love with you, but you seem to only have eyes for your precious angel." she snapped.

"That is ridiculous! Why would I care for that naïve child when I love a goddess?" he raged. Antoinette's eyes widened in surprise.

"The go to her. Tell her how you feel. If you do not, we will all lose her." the ballet mistress said, turning and stepping through the door, pushing it closed. Erik turned and raced through the tunnels, looking for his beloved muse.

* * *

Calliope stepped into Christine's dressing room and picked up a brush, arranging the soprano's hair.

"Roux, I'm so afraid. Raoul has laid this trap for the Phantom, but I must be the bait! I cannot do it!" she sobbed. Calliope sat the brush down and kneeled before her friend.

"Christine, listen well. Tonight, we will both be onstage, and together we will amaze all of Paris. I want you to smile the whole time, because that is how I want to remember you." she said sadly. Christine looked into her friend's eyes, confused.

"What are you talking about, Roux? You're starting to frighten me." she asked. Calliope smiled, willing her tears away.

"I am leaving Paris. I am returning to my homeland." she replied. Christine's eyes widened in fear.

"No, you can't! You'll be killed! I can't let you do that! Why on earth would you leave?" she cried.

"I have been a fool. I have fallen in love, but he desires another. In all honesty, she is a better match for him. She is a lovely pale beauty, and she outshines me at every turn. Rossignol, promise me that you will never judge a person for what they look like. The face of an angel can hide the soul of a devil. Swear to me that you will always look beyond the surface." she said. Christine looked up at her friend in disbelief.

"I promise Calliope. But who is this fool who cannot see your beauty? I will strike him with Madame's cane for being such a fool!" Christine proclaimed. Calliope laughed and pulled her friend to her feet.

"Thank you for your support. It is time. Go, I'll be right behind you." Calliope said. Christine nodded and hurried out the door. Calliope took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing her body to stop trembling. She took a step towards the door when a familiar voice froze her in her tracks.

"Oh, Calliope, can you ever forgive me?" Erik whispered, his voice so sad, so forlorn, it broke her heart all over again to hear it. She turned and held out her hands.

"Erik, please, you have to leave. Raoul has set a trap. If you attempt to take Christine from the opera, they will kill you. You must wait until at least tomorrow." she said hurriedly, though it killed her to say the words. Moving almost quicker than she could see, Erik crossed the room and swept her into his arms, kissing her passionately. Calliope lost herself in his touch. Finally, he pulled away and gazed into her eyes, love swelling in his heart.

"My beloved muse, why would I chose a terrified singer when I am in love with a goddess?" he whispered. Calliope's eyes widened at his words, her broken heart healing in a second as tears came to her eyes.

"Erik, do you truly mean that?" she breathed. He leaned forward and captured her lips again.

"Every word. I have meant it every time I whispered it in your ear as you slept, and I mean it now. Say you love me as well, and I will shower you with gifts. I will take you wherever your heart desires." he whispered. She smiled serenely at him.

"As long as I am with you, anywhere would be paradise." she said, meeting his lips with hers. He returned the kiss fervently, his fingers splayed against her bare back. They languished in each others arms for what felt like an eternity, before a knock sounded at the door.

"Mademoiselle StClair? It's time to get onstage! Are you ready?" Meg Giry's voice called through the door. Calliope turned and faced the closed door.

"I'll be right there!" she called, and pressed her lips to Erik's once more.

"I will be watching, beloved. Make me proud." he whispered, before slipping through the hidden door in the mirror. Calliope quickly checked the pearls woven in her hair, and stepped out the door. Meg looked up at her, a puzzled look on her face.

"Is everything alright?" the child asked.

"Of course. Why do you ask?" Calliope asked.

"You have this dreamy look on your face." Meg replied. Calliope flushed as red as her hair, and ushered the young ballerina onstage, grinning like mad.

* * *

Raoul sat in Box 5, watching the opera below. He was tense, watching closely for any sign of the Phantom coming after his beloved. Looking down at the dancers, he was amazed to see Mademoiselle StClair dancing at the front of their numbers, her movements graceful. She moved as if she had been dancing like that her whole life.

"Incredible. I never knew Roux could dance like that." he breathed, watching as the costume mistress moved alongside Christine, the pair moving in perfect harmony.

"My beloved muse is full of surprises." a voice from the shadows answered, making the Vicompt jump. He turned to face the Phantom, hand on his sword, when the masked man held up his hand.

"Peace, my good man. I have no intention of spiriting away your fiancée. I have eyes only for my lovely muse." he said, his gaze locked on the beautiful woman dancing onstage. Warily, Raoul sat down again, watching the rest of the opera. From time to time, he would glance at the other man in the shadows. The Phantom was watching with an almost disinterested air, considering it was his work being performed. That all changed whenever the beautiful costume mistress appeared onstage. Then he would lean forward, his eyes locked on the woman's graceful movements. Raoul was shocked at the love and pride that filled his eyes as he watched her dance.

"You truly love her, don't you?" Raoul asked, his voice soft. The masked man looked over at the young Vicompt, a gentle smile on his face.

"I daresay I love her even more than you love Christine." he replied, an amused tone in his voice. When the performance ended, the two women were given a standing ovation. Even Raoul and the Phantom applauded the pair. Christine looked up into the box and stiffened, but her friend placed a hand on her arm and whispered something in her ear. The soprano looked at the older woman in surprise, before hugging her fiercely. Raoul turned and saw the Phantom was already gone.

* * *

Calliope and Christine entered the Prima Donna's dressing room laughing. The pair quickly changed from their costumes, Christine into a hunter green gown, Calliope a royal purple dress that lay just off her shoulders.

"Does this mean you are not leaving?" Christine asked. Calliope smiled warmly.

"I am staying. Christine, can you ever forgive me?" she asked. The soprano looked at her friend in surprise.

"Roux, there is nothing to forgive! You have done nothing wrong! If anything it is I who should beg forgiveness! I allowed all this to happen." she said. The pair embraced warmly.

"Let's just agree that we both did nothing wrong." Calliope said. A knock sounded at the door before Christine could respond. The soprano opened the door to reveal Raoul, holding two bouquets of roses, one red and one white.

"Congratulations, Mademoiselles." he said, handing the white roses to Calliope and the red to Christine. Christine smiled and pressed a kiss to her fiancée's lips. Calliope smiled warmly at the pair, her smile growing even wider as she felt familiar arms slip around her waist.

"You were amazing, my love." Erik whispered. Calliope leaned into his embrace.

"Thank you, my prince." she whispered. Erik chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest.

"I am no prince, my love. But I would be as rich as a king if you would marry me." he whispered in her ear. She turned and flung her arms around his neck, kissing him all over his face.

"Oh, my love, of course I will! And then, you really will be a prince!" she cried. Erik froze, looking down at Calliope.

"What do you mean, my muse?" he whispered. By now, Christine and Raoul were watching them in confused curiosity. Calliope blushed.

"My last little secret. My real name is Amira Jahad StClair. I am the granddaughter of a sultan. In fact, my mother was his favored child." she explained. Erik was staring at her in shock.

"Roux?! You're a princess?!" Christine cried. Calliope looked into Erik's eyes, a trace of fear creeping into her.

"Erik?" she whispered. Finally, he blinked and pulled her into his arms again. When she looked up at his face, he was smiling dazedly.

"I fear this is a dream I will wake from at any moment." he managed. Calliope laughed and laid her hand on his exposed cheek.

"This is no dream. I am really here, and I am really going to marry you. There is nothing that would change my mind." she replied. Just then, Meg burst into the room, a look of terror on her face.

"Calliope! There is a Persian in the managers office. He said that he recognized you when you were onstage. He's accusing the managers of kidnapping the crown princess!"

* * *

A/N: OOOH, I'll bet you hate me now! Seriously, I need some reviews. This is as far as I have gotten, and I am not really sure where to go from here. I could; A. Have Erik and Calliope flee Paris, B. Calliope can face the Persian and return home, or C. Something else. I DON'T KNOW!!!! Hit the green button and tell me what you think!


	9. Escape and Reflection

A/N: Well, finally, here is the finale! Sorry it's so short, but I couldn't think of any other way to end this. Thank you to everyone who has read this, and great thanks to all who reviewed!

* * *

Calliope froze in Erik's arms, feeling her blood freeze in her veins. She turned and looked up at her fiancée, fear in her eyes.

"They've found me Erik. What are we going to do? I can't lose you again, my heart could not bear it." she cried, tears filling her eyes. Erik reached out and caressed the side of her face, determination hard in his eyes.

"Do not worry, mon amour. All the armies of the world cannot take you from me again." he declared.

"What shall I tell the managers? They are going to send Mama to fetch you." Meg asked, her tone frantic. Erik took Calliope's hand.

"We will flee. Wherever you wish to go, my love. When it is safe, we will return." he said.

"I will tell the managers you have already left. They all know you were planning on leaving after the performance, so it will not be a great surprise." Christine said. Calliope looked at her friend and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Thank you, rossignol. I will be back, I promise." she said, and Christine smiled, pressing a kiss to the woman's cheek.

"Good luck to you both." she replied. Raoul pulled the soprano toward the door.

"I will have a carriage meet you at the rear of the theatre in an hour. Good luck, mon ami." he said, and the young couple departed. Calliope and Erik turned to the mirror, and Erik opened the secret door, holding out his hand to lead her through the door.

"Can we go to Italy? Papa used to tell me the most wonderful stories about Rome." she said, and Erik smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips.

"Of course. And then, we will go to Greece, and you can see the temples of your namesake. For you will always be Calliope to me." he replied. Just as they made to step into the tunnel, the main door burst open, and an older man wearing Persian clothes burst in, his eyes locking onto Calliope, before dropping to his knees before her.

"Princess Amira! Thank Allah you are safe! Who are these men who have stolen you from your home?" he demanded, standing swiftly and reaching for his sword. Erik made to throw his Punjab lasso before Calliope grabbed his arm.

"Enough Rashad! I was not kidnapped! Emir Rosan's men snatched me from my home the night my mother died. When I escaped his clutches I fled to Paris. I am here of my own volition, and I am now leaving by my own will with my fiancée." she snapped, her voice growing cold and commanding. Erik turned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a show of support and possessiveness. Rashad looked from Erik to Calliope in surprise.

"You are to be married?" he asked, as if not believing his ears. She nodded, clutching at Erik's arm.

"Yes. I will not return home, not after what that man and his advisors did to me." she replied, and Rashad's eyes widened in anger.

"What did they do? I would behead them myself if they yet lived." he roared, and it was Calliope's turn to blink in surprise.

"I knew Rosan was dead, but I was unaware that his advisors had perished." she said cautiously. Rashad nodded vigorously.

"His advisors attempted to overthrow your grandfather. They were executed for treason." he explained. Calliope sagged against Erik in relief.

"Why are you in Paris?" she asked, feeling Erik's arm slide around her waist. She knew he was prepared to disappear down the tunnels, and she was ready to follow him if Rashad made to take her away.

"I am here as an emissary, and I was invited to the opera. I must say princess, you still dance superbly." he said. Calliope tightened her grip on Erik's hand, her weight shifting ever so slightly towards the mirror.

"And now that you have found me here?" she asked, catching Madame Giry's eye and gesturing ever so slightly at the mirror. Madame gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

"I will take you home to your grandfather of course. You are still the next in line for the throne." he replied. Calliope shook her head, taking a small step closer to the tunnel.

"No, Rashad, I will not be returning to Persia. Do you honestly think that the people would accept a half breed woman as their ruler? Tell Grandfather that I am happy, and I have found a man who loves me as my father loved my mother." she declared. The Persian stood straighter, his eyes snapping with anger.

"Princess you may be, but you must still abide by your grandfather's wishes." he snapped. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, two things happened at once. Madame Giry stuck her cane in front of the man's foot, causing him to trip as he reached for the costume mistress, and Erik pulled her into the tunnel, sealing the door behind them. The pair raced through the tunnels, her hand held tightly in his. Once they reached his lair, Erik headed to a small room of to the side, where he picked up several satchels.

"What's all this?" she asked. He looked up and smiled at her.

"I have been getting a salary from the managers of my opera house for several years. I have collected quite a large savings." he replied, and Calliope grinned, following him up another tunnel.

"I love you, my darling." she said, as she followed closely behind him. His silky chuckle trailed back to her.

"The first thing we will do once we are safely away from Paris is select a ring fit for your hand, ma chere." he said, setting the bags near the hidden door to the alley behind the theatre. She smiled widely as she slipped her arms around his waist. He turned back and kissed her deeply.

"What did I do to deserve you?" she whispered. Erik gazed lovingly down into her face, brushing her hair back from her face.

"The real question is how did I ever gain the love of such a goddess?" he replied. She smiled warmly up at him.

"You have my love for the same reason I have yours. You look beyond the surface." she said. Erik laughed gently and glanced through the hidden door. After a moment, he pulled the door open and carried the satchels to the carriage before taking Calliope by the hand and helping her into the carriage. Once she was safely inside, he turned to the edge of the theatre.

"I am in your debt, Vicompt. We will send word once we reach Italy." he called. Calliope leaned out of the carriage and waved to her dearest friend.

"Adieu Rossignol! I will miss you!" she called.

"Adieu Roux! Good luck to you both!" Christine called back. Erik and Calliope settled back into the carriage as it headed down the road, their hands interlaced.

"Christine got your chest from your rooms and packed it in your things. We make for Marseilles, and from there we will head for Rome by train." Erik said, drawing her into his arms. She settled her head onto his shoulder, smiling.

"That would be wonderful. Erik, could we get married in Marseilles? I don't want to wait any longer." she asked. When she looked up at him, he was smiling widely at her.

"Your wish is my command, my love." he replied, bowing his head to meet her lips.

******************************************************************************************

Ten years later

"Selene, Henri! Come down here, we are going to be late!" Erik called, holding his hat in one hand. A thundering of small feet preceded the two children, who hurried down the stairs to stand at their father's feet. Selene and Henri Deveroux were always extremely well behaved if it meant they could accompany their parents to the opera house. Erik looked the children over, adjusting Henri's tie and brushing a lock of Selene's hair back into place. He glanced up the stairs and froze, his mouth hanging open slightly. Calliope sailed down to stand next to her husband, a vision in a gown of deep purple, with ropes of black pearls woven through her hair. She smiled at Erik before reaching over and tapping his chin with her fan.

"Now you are making us late, mi amour." she teased, and Erik slid an arm around her waist, bringing his lips to hers as the two children protested.

"You are a vision, my muse." he whispered, leading his family out to the waiting carriage. The children sat calmly in their seat the whole way to the Opera Populaire, and obediently waited until their father had stepped out and taken their mother's hand before taking their own turn to exit the carriage. The four of them made their way into the grand foyer of the opera house, and were led to their seats.

As they watched the performance, Erik found his gaze returning to his lovely wife. Even after ten years, he was amazed at his good fortune. He and Calliope had traveled all of Europe after leaving Paris that fateful night, and in the end, the pair had traveled to Persia so Calliope could make amends with her grandfather. Much to Erik's surprise, the sultan was overjoyed at learning that his only granddaughter was happily married, and had warmly welcomed the former Phantom to the family. Abdul Jahad was a very understanding man, and while he lamented the fact that Calliope would not stay, he wished them well, and gifted them with enough riches to secure a suitable home in Paris for their family. When Calliope had protested that it was only the two of them, the jolly sultan had simply smiled. Not long after, Calliope learned she was expecting. Erik still claimed that her grandfather was a soothsayer, much to his wife's amusement.

Little Selene looked so much like her mother, her hair just a shade or two lighter, but her eyes were her father's, brilliant emeralds against her slightly tanned skin. Two years later, Henri had been born. The young boy had his fathers dark hair, but his eyes were a deep sapphire. Both children had already shown a natural talent for music, and Selene loved to paint, their playroom covered in her drawings. As the curtain closed on the performers, Erik realized that he had barely paid attention to the opera, he was so lost in his memories.

"Erik, darling, are you alright?" Calliope asked, concern evident on her face. He smiled warmly, lacing his fingers through hers.

"Everything is wonderful. I was just thinking, perhaps we should consider taking a trip to your homeland. I know that your grandfather would love to see the children." he said. Calliope smiled and stood, looking down at her smiling children as they chattered to themselves about the opera.

"I think that would be wonderful." she said, pressing her lips to his.


End file.
